


Picking Up Strays

by Flynne



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 08:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21473206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flynne/pseuds/Flynne
Summary: Aster looks up. The hyena cub, finished with the jerky, starts gently gnawing on his fingers instead.“Amatus,” Dorian says. “No.”Aster smiles.Dorian squares his shoulders, an unyielding bulwark capable of resisting even the most pleading looks from the world’s most doe-eyed qunari. “No,” he says again, “and that’s final.”
Relationships: Male Adaar/Dorian Pavus, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 1
Kudos: 79





	Picking Up Strays

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fictober 2019. Prompt: "No, and that's final."

“You know,” Dorian says, feet sinking into a dune for the hundredth time, “Just when I think I’ve figured out the worst thing about this blasted place, it outdoes itself once again.”

“Oh?”

He glares up at the Inquisitor, towering over him yet still somehow failing to block the sun. “I can hear you smiling. Is my suffering amusing to you?”

“Never.” But Aster still smiles, and if he didn’t look so charming and Dorian weren’t so fond of him, he might be tempted to take offense. The treacherous sand beneath his feet shifts again, but before he can fall, Aster’s hand curls around his biceps to steady him. Dorian’s annoyed scowl softens into a tiny smile of gratitude as Aster lightly slides his grip down his arm to engulf Dorian’s hand within his own. 

Dorian wipes his dripping forehead with his sleeve, grimacing as another trickle of sand pours into his boot, in spite of Aster half-lifting him up the crest of the dune. “Promise me something, Amatus. The next time you bring me somewhere with a lot of sand, it will involve an ocean, sun-parasols, and inadvisably strong alcoholic beverages.”

Aster chuckles, kindling a warmth inside Dorian’s chest that is vastly more welcome than the merciless glare of the sun. “Unfortunately Leliana informs me we’ll have business in the Hissing Wastes soon, but I’ll do my best.” Dorian sighs the sigh of a man courageously remaining stoic in the face of adversity.

The ground levels out and becomes mercifully more solid, packed sand over red rock. The heat is oppressive, making excess movement or speech too much of an effort. Even Bull and Varric, usually prone to gossiping like old grandmothers, are silent trudging along behind them. Sweat slicks the surface of Dorian’s palm unpleasantly. He grimaces, but instead of releasing Aster’s hand, he coaxes a thin trickle of mana to spiral from his fingers and up Aster’s solid forearm. Frost crystals bloom on the smooth gray skin, sparkling in the harsh sunlight before melting away almost as soon as they form. 

Aster smiles a little, releasing Dorian’s hand to lightly curve his palm against the back of his neck. The last residue of melting frost trickles from between his fingers down into Dorian’s collar and he sighs again, just barely holding back a moan of relief that would have come out sounding decidedly inappropriate for the current setting.

Varric snorts softly. “Did you bring enough for the rest of us, Sparkler?”

“Only if you want to hold hands.”

Bull lets out a dry _Ha_. “Careful, he’ll call your bluff.”

Dorian gives him an arch look. “Who’s bluffing?” 

“Never mind,” Varric says, unslinging Bianca and loading a bolt. “Looks like our hands are going to be busy.”

Bull swings his greataxe off his back. “Behind and to the left, boss.”

_Fasta vass, what now? _Dorian just manages to bite back the exasperated response, casting his eyes about as he reaches for his staff. He casts a barrier over them all as a reflex, and just in time, as three arrows come streaking from behind a rocky rise to skitter harmlessly off of Bull’s broad back, sparking against the barrier. More than half a dozen Venatori erupt from cover and charge screaming across the desert toward them. Bull roars back and surges forward to meet them. 

The already scorching heat of the day becomes blistering as Aster throws his arms wide and sends a wall of fire roaring across the sand, engulfing the Venatori that escape the terrifying sweeps of Bull’s axe. Dorian swears and backpedals, sending a cascade of lightning arcing through half of them. One man falls twitching to the ground but the rest keep coming.

“Don’t they know it’s too hot for this shit?” Varric complains, firing and reloading his crossbow with a speed that defies the crippling heat. 

The fight is over embarrassingly quickly - embarrassing for the Venatori, anyhow - and Dorian wrinkles his nose at the reprehensible odor of blood, ozone, and charred flesh from the scattered bodies. 

“We should see if they were camped nearby,” Aster says. 

Bull pulls his axe free from a shattered ribcage. “And get out of here before any hungry varghests come nosing around.” 

Aster doesn’t look happy about that - less concerned about the wildlife, Dorian knows, and more disturbed by the idea of bodies being left for scavengers. The body pits in the Exalted Plains have arguably been the worst, but he isn’t comfortable with the idea of any bodies being desecrated, even those of his enemies. Privately, Dorian thinks it might be best if the varghests choked on the Venatori remains and conveniently removed themselves as a threat as well, but he knows better than to say it aloud. 

The Venatori encampment isn’t far. Bull and Varric keep an eye on the heat-rippled horizon while Aster and Dorian search the tents. The shade inside the tents is only a slight reprieve at best. Dorian scoops up a sheaf of papers, rifling irritably through them in a futile attempt to find anything useful as he walks over to the tent Aster disappeared into. “This was a waste of time. There’s maps here with locations of different encampments but it’s all territory we’ve already covered. At least we know we haven’t overlooked anything.” He looks up from the crumpled paper and frowns curiously at Aster, crouched motionless in the back of the tent. “What are you doing?”

Aster beckons him closer. “Look,” he says quietly. 

Dorian sets aside the useless papers and walks over. A small cage is tucked into the back of the tent. This is a bad sign. Aster has reached into his pack and is pushing dried jerky through the bars. This is also a bad sign. Dorian braces himself and peers over his shoulder to see a ball of fuzz crouched at the bottom of the cage. Dull brown in color, with wide rounded ears, it chomps at the jerky with tiny but startlingly white teeth. 

“It’s a hyena cub,” Aster says, keeping his voice low to avoid scaring it. “Look at it, it must be barely weaned, it’s so small.”

Oh no. 

Dorian folds his arms. “Really?” he asks, trying his hardest to sound indifferent. “Are you sure about that? I’m quite sure we’ve seen beasts that size roaming around. It probably wants to get back to its den.”

Aster doesn’t answer, tilting his head to look at the cage. It’s locked, but it isn’t a particularly large padlock. He holds it in his hands, gives a sharp wrench, and the lock snaps. “There we go.” 

“Yes, well done,” Dorian says briskly. “Now you can release it into the wild where it belongs.” 

Still, Aster says nothing. The cub skitters to the back of the cage when he reaches in, eyeing his large hand suspiciously. Aster holds out the last of his jerky. The cub hesitates, licks its chops, and minces carefully forward, following as Aster withdraws his hand. It gobbles the food as soon as it gets close enough and doesn’t resist when Aster scoops it up, munching contentedly as he cradles it against his chest. 

Oh _no_.

Aster looks up. The cub, finished with the jerky, starts gently gnawing on his fingers instead.

“Amatus,” Dorian says. “No.”

Aster smiles. 

Dorian squares his shoulders, an unyielding bulwark capable of resisting even the most pleading looks from the world’s most doe-eyed qunari. “No,” he says again, “and that’s final.”

\-------------------------------------------

“I’m only going to say this once,” Dorian says as he enters their shared tent. “If I get fleas from that creature, you are both sleeping outside. Permanently.”

“He doesn’t have fleas.” 

Dorian snorts, shrugging out of his dusty robes and folding them with unnecessary precision. “Most people don’t smile like that when I make threats. You really should take the words of a menacing Tevinter more seriously.”

“I do take you seriously.” Aster looks far too amused for his words to sound sincere, and yet they do. The hyena cub is curled up close against his side. It’s snoring, making barely audible little wuffling noises. Dorian didn’t know animals _could _snore. 

He snuffs the candle, and Aster shifts to make room for him as he lies down - on the _opposite _side from the slumbering wildlife, thank you very much. “Really, Dorian,” he murmurs. “I can’t abandon him out here, but I don’t want you unhappy either. If you really don’t want him around, I’m sure I can make arrangements when we get back to Skyhold.”

Dorian sighs, pressing up against him. The only good thing about the Western Approach is that Aster generates enough heat to make the chilly nights bearable. Which, really, is a good thing about Aster; the blighted desert doesn’t get any of the credit. “I’m not unhappy,” he says quietly. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to leave it behind. You’re too soft-hearted.” He turns to rest his hand on Aster’s broad chest, feeling the great, soft heart thudding gently beneath his palm. “It’s an admirable trait.” He can feel Aster’s smile in the kiss that lands on his forehead. “Go on, I know you want to tell me,” he says resignedly. “What did you name it?”

Aster chuckles, sounding sheepish. “Dandelion.”

Dorian closes his eyes, smiling under cover of darkness like the besotted fool he’s turned out to be. “Of course you did.”

**Author's Note:**

> This particular Inquisitor was named after one of my d&d characters, a half-orc druid named Aster. Druid Aster has a pet hyena named Dandelion, and once I got to the Western Approach and saw there were ACTUAL hyenas in the game, I had to make it happen for Adaar. (Sorry, Dorian.)
> 
> PS: This fic in no way endorses adopting wild animals as pets.


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